twofingersandathumb

Yesterday I received the following e-mail forwarded from a friend (cut and pasted here directly with no editing) with the above photo attached:

How ironic is this??!! They don’t even believe in Christ and they’re getting their own Christmas stamp, but don’t dream of posting the ten commandments on federal property?

Now, I consider myself a loyal American and uphold the Constitution as the FFs (Founding Fathers) originally intended. I am a practicing Christian and believe in absolute truth. So on the surface, I would say, “Right on.” But something about this message bothered me. I could not take up the banner being presented and run with it. Why not?

I saw a few fatal flaws in the message that served to undermine its credibility:

First: The message states right off that this is a Christmas stamp. And then it continues into issues of American patriotism in the wake of worldwide terrorism related to jihad. This stamp is not a Christmas stamp. It deals with Muslim observances (blessed festivals), not Christian or Jewish. It is part of the USPS’s Holiday Celebration Series, but was not released as a “Christmas” stamp. So the email message is incorrect in its thesis, and thus becomes insupportable.

Second: Muslims do believe in Jesus Christ, but only as a prophet (not as the Christ/Messiah). They consider him a lesser prophet than Mohammad. Muslims do not acknowledge Christ’s resurrection from the dead nor his deity. Again, the opening assertion demonstrates some lack of knowledge on this point.

Third: I have not heard reported anywhere that it is specifically Muslims who oppose the display of the Ten Commandmants on public/government properties. This opposition appears to come mostly from “patriotic” Americans.

Fourth: The email infers that Christmas is an “American” holiday. However, it is not. Christmas is celebrated worldwide, and has been celebrated for centuries longer than the United States has existed. We Americans join the celebration but cannot claim it as ours. Note that many Americans do not celebrate Christmas, and even oppose it, but are still patriotic.

I agree that it’s a bit suspect to dedicate a postage stamp to a set of beliefs that considers it just and heroic to take lives on the basis that they’re not Islamists and therefore not valuable. Many Americans have lost their lives and loved ones at the hands of Islamists and we can assert that this stamp is therefore inappropriate and unpatriotic. Let’s use that as the basis for protest, because, for a country, group or person to commemorate principles that demand its destruction is unwise, to put it politely.

I hope you see my point in this: If one is going to make an argument one needs solid, reasonable, factual basis for that argument. Otherwise, it falls apart and is mere assertion. The issue I have with this email is that, although the idea might be right, the way in which that idea is supported is so flawed that it makes the entire idea invalid. This is true whether one is speaking of religious, political, scientific and philosophical concepts. Let’s be intelligent and winsome in making our arguments. We may not succeed in persuading, but at least we won’t shoot ourselves in the foot.

I’m a Californian. More than that, I’m a native Californian, second-generation, in fact. I have lived in southern California all my life. Every year has brought a “fire season”. That’s the way it is out here. The chaparral dries out, the Santa Ana winds blow hot and fierce, and the combination is either an enticement for people with a peculiar fire fascination or fodder for a flying spark from some non-human source.

I have been affected by this year’s firestorm in a second-hand way: I reside about 20 miles northwest of Malibu, and the smoke floats up the coastal canyons and over into my valley. My sky is reddened, ash falls and my sinuses go whankey. I have piles left from the winds to clean up.

All that said, I am amazed at the accusations that certain people have made in the last couple of days, that these fires are the fault of global warming, of human mismanagement, of overpopulation, of too much money spent on the Iraq war, or of some devious plot devised somewhere. We can’t point our finger at nature and its processes and get any satisfaction, so instead we stand on a soap box and cry “foul”.

Granted, these are the worst fires with the greatest damage I think this state – this nation – has seen. We’re in a prolonged drought. Humidity has been low. The Santa Anas were blowing at hurricane force for several days. These all came together and things ignited. Power lines snapped in the winds. Arsonists made the most of the opportunity.

I find it interesting that people stand far off and complain, accuse and politicize. Those who are not affected directly by the fires appear to be the most vocal. Some who lost a second home in Malibu are also bitter and loud. People who have no business complaining are complaining. In contrast, whole families who lost home and livelihood, pets and neighborhoods in a matter of minutes are expressing thanks and appreciation for lives for the heroic firefighters the support services and relief they are receiving. It’s more than contrast, it’s a polar opposite.

Life happens. Out here, life includes fire season. We have a lot of clean-up and restoration to do this year. We’ll accomplish it a lot faster if we stop complaining, come alongside each other and get to work.

I have always liked westerns. The reason lies in the fact that westerns have horses and guys who ride them, plus panoramic vistas of mountains, trees, skies and deserts. They have handsome good guys and smarmy bad guys.

To me, Westerns always land right-side-up. By that I mean that there is a clear line separating good and evil. That line is easily recognized. It never moves or gets re-defined. In the old days, the line was visible: the good guys wore white hats and, after going through a struggle, won in the end.

Westerns are morality tales. They’re explorations of human nature showing its true colors under extreme pressure. They’re simply complex. We know what to expect of a western: something bad is going to happen to good people; there is a power struggle between the big land baron or the railroad and the little guy. The little guy never sports a victim-mentality for long, but gets fed up with the way things are and sets about to make things right. The struggle ensues and bit-by-bit, through perseverance he weakens the big guy and eventually takes him out.

My favorite Western has always been Silverado. The good guys won in the end by picking off the bad guys one by one through a coordinated effort. My second is Pale Rider, about a lone savior who protected settlers and won in the end through smarts and stealth. Third is The Cowboys, a classic John Wayne epic with horses, cattle, boys, bad guys and Vivaldi’s Concerto for Guitar in D Major. John Wayne died, but the boys won in the end.

Yesterday my Top Three was upset rather violently when my friend took me to see 3:10 to Yuma. Almost bloody enough to be a Mel Gibson film, this flick pitted the good against the bad, then the good with the bad. The good guy got killed but the bad guy got on the train to Yuma nonetheless. The horse won in the end, I think.

A good story line, complex characters and some humor thrown in made the spattered blood sequences meaningful. Basically, I came away with two truths that are conveyed throughout the story:

First, that some things are worth fighting for – even giving up your life for. Some things need to be fought for. Taking a stand might be painful and even lethal. Once you put your foot down, someone else will come along who wants to stomp on your toes, remove your shoe and cut off your leg. Count on it; then rise to the occasion.

Second, that the line between good and evil can get really obscure. It is tempting to take the easy way out, but the easy way is likely not the right way.

In 3:10 to Yuma, the villain, Ben, was an intelligent, likeable nasty guy who quoted scripture and lived by clearly-defined values but was way south of being right. He tempted the good guy, Dan, made him all sorts of offers in exchange for freedom and kept him entertained with conversation and genuine charm. He preserved Dan’s life. He got on the train of his own volition. His horse even liked him; we know this because it went scampering off into the sunset after him.

Dan was initially weak and cowardly – not all that likeable. Even his family was unsure of him. He found his courage in holding fast to the good. He was tempted to turn (and you could tell he wanted to take the easy way out) but stuck to his guns. His struggles were visibly internal. I could tell he was weighing the what-ifs.

I found myself cheering for both Ben and Dan at the same time. I didn’t care who won. This is the first Western I recall in which I found both the protagonist and the antagonist at once likable and despicable. They both had merit. They were both flawed. They were both good-looking.

Who do I choose? If I cheer for both, I am just like each of them, full of goodness and smarminess at the same time. It’s the human dilemma!

We each live a morality tale. No matter how good we can be, we are at the same time bad. We find ourselves doing things we don’t want to do, and not doing things we want to do. We argue with ourselves. We have internal and external struggles. We feel guilt when we mess up and avoid discomfort as much as possible. We rejoice when we do someone good. We all hope to be the good guy and win in the end.

I have always liked Westerns. They remind me of me, but with horses.

©2007 Alvalyn Lundgren. All Rights Reserved.